


Prince Perfect

by orphan_account



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-04-16
Updated: 2007-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryoma returns to Japan for high school completely bored of tennis, now.  Impossible, right?  You'd be surprised because poor Sakuno sure was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I know this looks like it's going to be a serious fic at first, but it really isn't. According to fandom, Ryoma is "perfect" because he always wins and henceforth he is annoying. Well, okay. But what if we take away exactly what it is that makes him 'perfect'? Ehehehe...

_'Nobody is gonna get perfect life. No matter what you do_

_But I'm just trying to find my place here in the real world_

_Never worried what I'm gonna do now. My soul will never sink'_

LIFE GOES ON - Minagawa Junko

"And you're all set. That'll be 1,700 yen, please."

"Thank you," Sakuno responded. Her damp hair hung in dull, dark strands over her shoulders as she handed her money over to the barber. She watched what was once two-thirds of her hair being swept into a dust pan with gloomy eyes. This was the last time she would ever get to see her precious hair. Having a spot in the high school of her choice, she now had to adhere to their dress code. All the girls would have hair this length. High school started in a week, and she would enter as the mirror image of every other girl. Tomoka, too, would be attending the same school, and her signature pig-tails would be no more. All that made them appear unique would be lost during school hours.

 _Well, we all have to grow up sometime_ , she thinks with a resigned mental shrug.

Sakuno wasn't quite ready to head home after her new haircut. She knew exactly where the big mirror in her room was. One look in that mirror would undoubtedly make her cry. Keeping her eyes off of the ubiquitous mirrors in the barber shop was challenge enough, but she wouldn't be able to resist looking into her mirror. She wanted to accustom herself to her new look by letting the world see it before she did. This way, she wouldn't spend her entire night dreading the thought of others at school seeing her this way rather than sleeping. She sure could use some sleep, after months of Hell spent studying for her entrance exams.

In any case, she made it where any well-respected Japanese student went, and that alone was satisfying enough.

She took this opportunity to wander. There was no destination that struck her fancy, though there was a few thousand yen burning a hole in her pocket. That was enough to get a cheap meal at the burger joint. She didn't feel like cooking, and her grandmother still wasn't back from her team trip up in the mountains.

It was a custom for Sumire to bring her tennis Regulars up to the mountains for some fun. Some years Sakuno went, and some years she didn't. This was one of the years she couldn't, but it was fine. Although the majority of the team consisted of boys from her graduating class, she wasn't very interested in being there. Horio was captain in place of a certain, pretentious tennis prodigy Sakuno hadn't seen in over two years.

With Ryoma in mind, she found herself stopping at the street courts, happy it was vacant and happy she remembered to bring her racket. She needed practice, and the wall before her was wide and inviting.

She rallied off, not missing a single beat by aiming too high, returning too sloppy, or anything like that. Her current return average against this wall was 40-ish, but her record was 79. She hadn't been able to make an even 80 since the last time she watched Ryoma play on television. That was over half a year ago. Time sure flies when entrance exams become a real thing.

_Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen..._

Sakuno sent him a total of three letters, and Ryoma sent her a total of two responses. One response was, _'You must have cut your hair, then. I'm glad you're doing well'_ and another was _'Merry Christmas.'_ Sakuno never sent a fourth letter, because the she had yet to receive a response for the third.

_Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine..._

She sent it two months ago. She'd been given her instruction booklet with efficient tips on how to study for her exams via Momoshiro. In exchange, he asked for her to send a letter to Ryoma, knowing the poor kid was all alone out West, exponentially racking up victories with that bored look on his face. Momo and Ryoma were the best of friends, so he'd know best.

_Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine..._

The third letter wasn't really so different than the previous two. It was the usual spiel on how things in Seigaku were going, how the tennis team was, how she was doing, and so on. Sakuno had written so much, half-expecting to get a letter in return that read _'You write too much'_ and have that be that. The fact that Ryoma hadn't sent her a letter in return at all was quite nerve-wracking.

_Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine..._

She felt pathetic, having her mind wander toward a goal that simply couldn't be. Ryoma made his choice, and that choice was an entire continent away. She never felt their ties sever, especially since he had taken her ball with him. The only tennis ball she had invested a world of emotion and perseverance into. The one with Ryoma's face drawn on it was always hers, and then it was his. He was her first crush, her first savior, and her first inspiration. Of course he'd be difficult to let go of, but the beginning of forever had to start sometime. Better sooner than later.

_Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine..._

Echizen Ryoma was a constant ideal that filled her heart whenever she needed to drive herself to achieve a goal. Months of study was inspired by him. Hours of vocal practice was inspired by him. Even now, hitting this ball over, and over, and over was making his presence so very real to her right now, almost as if he were standing behind her right this minute, eyes shadowed underneath the bill of his white cap, and she could feel him watching. Every bone in her body tingled beneath the ache of her muscles.

_Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine..._

"Yo," she could hear him say, but it wasn't real. However, the sweat that glued her bangs to her forehead was very real, and she could smell and even taste the dirt her tennis ball collected from the pavement. Her right arm could barely move anymore, and the evening sun was beginning to do a fine job of impairing her vision. Concentrate, you're almost there, she thought to herself. If she can break this record, then, well, she didn't quite know, but something in her burned, raged, needed, wanted, everything. Everything depended on these last few hits.

_Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine..._

"Yo," he said again, and after the 80th strike she dropped to her knees, panting for breath and clutching her throbbing arm. For the life of her, she didn't know how he could do it. He made it look so easy, and he wasn't even here!

But she could hear him.

She could hear her ball being bounced up and down behind her, and it took every little fragment of courage she had to be able to turn around and face what wasn't there.

But it was there. _He_ was there. Same bored expression, same haughty stance, same... no. He didn't have his bag of rackets, nor did he have his white cap. His hair was more neatly trimmed than she remembered, and.

_Say something._

"Ryoma-kun, you're... " Missing your tennis bag. A lot taller. Extremely gorgeo- _Tomo-chaaan_. "... back."

Indeed, he was back. All two feet of him, Momo would say. Of course, he had been to America once on foreign exchange last year and knew what that measurement meant, unlike everybody else.

Everyone asked, yet he hadn't seen Ryoma, apparently. Momo's denial wasn't convincing to some people, though. The two of them were on opposite sides of the huge country, yes, but it didn't hurt to hope. It was almost as if Momoshiro knew something that Ryoma didn't want anybody else to know.

Sakuno learned that, in America, other sports had much bigger names than tennis. In particular, baseball, which was a sport she wasn't fond of. Still, Ryoma had plenty of admirers, money, and competition. He was closer to the stars than anyone she's ever known. She saw him on television and on the news a few times. He was secretly respected and admired by those amongst his age level; a mere boy of twelve made it to the top doing what he loved. Granted, that wasn't quite in the norm, and most adults didn't find his example admirable in the least. Then again, most adults didn't find his father admirable in the least, either. The Echizen family was so quick to ditch Japan.

So why was Ryoma back so suddenly? She hadn't seen him since his return to see the Nationals, but that was only for a brief period of time. Most of the time he was back, Sakuno spent doing other things, like attending voice and cooking lessons. Her life in tennis dwindled a bit, and she didn't have enough time to always see Seigaku perform. She was very glad that they were doing well, though.

Of all the matches to see, the one where Seigaku faced Rikkai was the one. The team had claimed victory by a hair, and she was glad. The night before Ryoma headed back, she had seen him, and congratulated him on his impressive victory.

"I didn't think I'd ever see or hear from you again. I've... you... "

She wanted to say that she missed him. When it didn't come out, he simply handed her a piece of paper with his address on it. He was gone the next morning, and she wrote to him immediately.

She found she could say so much more through writing, though his responses in all mediums were brief and concise. That was fine, because that was him.

However, there were times when his brief, concise responses were not fine.

"So, Ryoma-kun," whispered Sakuno, as if she were about to ask the world's most personal question. "Why did you come back? Are you just here for a visit?"

Five seconds and a sip of Ponta later came the four most foreign words to ever penetrate her line of hearing. "I'm sick of tennis."

T B C


	2. Chapter 2

"What?"

Had Sakuno's eyes shot open any wider they would have fallen out rolled right across the table. Now, the Ryoma she knew had the nastiest sense of humor, and a habit of using it at the worst possible times. Still, Sakuno was a well-mannered young girl, so when the boy she admired most happened to be sitting right across the table from her, it was only polite to laugh when he told a joke, bad or otherwise.

Judging by the hard, pointed scowl his face sunk into mid-laughter, the simple words he uttered suddenly weren't a joke, and her forced amusement came to an abrupt halt.

He couldn't be serious. There was no way.

"Ryoma-kun," she squeaked, throat still tight with the sting of laughter and chest suddenly heavy with disbelief. "It couldn't be."

"Why not?" He took another sip of Ponta and allowed his bored gaze to wander, refamiliarizing himself with this place. The place he and his best friend, Mighty Momo-chan (or so he called himself these days), sat and had burgers. Back when Ryoma lived in Japan, Sakuno would occasionally stumble upon one of his conversations with Momo which, 9.9 out of 10 times, pertained to tennis. Always tennis. Tennis followed Ryoma wherever he went. He lived tennis. He breathed tennis. Birds sang, fish swam, and Echizen Ryoma played tennis. That was the natural balance of the world.

Ryoma throwing off the balance of the world was not very funny. Soon the sky would fall, all land would sink beneath the ocean, and Horio-kun would have two eyebrows. And Ryoma wouldn't be playing tennis.

Sakuno decided that this was the worst thing in the world.

"Ryoma-kun, will you... will you please meet me at the old playground tomorrow? Perhaps around three-ish?" She couldn't accept this as the truth until she saw it for herself.

He eyed her suspiciously, knowing that this girl was far too shy to ask anything of him so directly. Even Sakuno was surprised by her abrupt request, and spent the next few moments with cheeks so hot you could fry an egg on them. Ryoma remembered how the old woman or his old man used to trap the two of them into ridiculous situations together, making for a very annoying and wasteful afternoon on his part. That was because he could have been spending that time playing tennis, playing tennis, or what do you know, playing tennis. Sakuno hated to impose upon his tennis time, so it didn't happen often.

Now that he had no tennis time, she saw no reason why he couldn't come out and see her. And since the natural balance of the world was now in ruins, she saw no reason why she shouldn't be a bit braver. Her trembling gaze finally met his, scrutinizing every thought in his eyes until he just couldn't take it anymore. This girl had very subtle ways of being authoritative, and that made him nervous.

"Sure," he answered, breaking eye contact with a pretend hiccup. "But don't expect me to bring my rackets or anything."

"O-of course not," she said with a nervous grin. She suspected, hoped rather, that he would, if only that a tennis racket was like an extra appendage to him. This would take much getting used to.

"Nice haircut, by the way."

Oh right.

She'd forgotten all about that.

Clear proof that this world was coming to an end.

Sakuno had no clear-cut plans when she had asked Ryoma to meet her in the park the following day. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and she was often told the she has great intuition. Silly as it seemed, she felt she may be the hand that placed the world back into the correct order of things.

"Yosh," she said, pumping her tiny fist in a heroic fashion. When passer-byers caught a glimpse of her sudden burst of exuberance, an embarrassed blush burned across her cheeks. No matter how many times Tomoka told her to toughen up, it never made things any easier. If nothing else, it just made Sakuno's naturally shy nature more real to her. She just wasn't the type to willingly draw attention toward herself.

Suddenly, there were more eyes fixed upon her. The butt end of a cold can against her neck caused her to yelp, stumble, and fall over. Her rear end hit the ground with a loud 'fump', and thus came the curious whispers. She may as well have her own little comedy act by now, not that it'd douse the fire in her cheeks any.

"You're just as big a klutz as ever," a voice murmured from above. Suddenly, all the fear and embarrassment melted into an emotion that came to Sakuno so rarely that it was as though Ryoma were staring down at a whole new person. With brows kitted tightly together, Sakuno pushed herself up from the ground, clenched her fists together, and leveled her piercing eyes with Ryoma's.

"DON'T STARTLE ME LIKE THAT!" she bellowed, causing his jaw to drop and Ponta can to fall to the ground. He blinked once, twice, and by the time the third was twitching in his lids, Sakuno caught her breath, and a blush so vivid streamed across her face that Ryoma thought it could to light a dark room. That was more like it.

"S-sorry!" she bowed, her shoulder-length hair shadowing her mortified features. Surely the entire playground was watching them now, and-and she was on the verge of fainting, having so much attention drawn toward her. If she didn't have a duty to fulfill here, she would have long since ran for her life.

Now, just to remember what that duty was...

"Mou, you made me spill my Ponta," said Ryoma, pretending as though he weren't just on the brink of death. After all, getting Sakuno angry was a challenge. It was easy to make her cry, but to make her explode in fury? It took a special kind annoying to do so. Ryoma clearly had this mastered, just by being himself.

He would never change, except for the whole tennis thing.

Right! Tennis!

"Ryoma-kun, let's go for a walk," she said, clutching his wrist. She dragged him as far as two steps before realizing how they looked. She released his wrist with a small, uttered apology that he acknowledged with a grunt. They then walked side-by-side, exchanging no looks, no words, and barely any evidence that they were in any way acquainted with one another. This was turning out to be one dull afternoon.

Two hours went by, and Sakuno's feet were finally spent from walking, walking, walking, so the two of them stopped for a break at the bench. They must have gone around the park at least three times, and barely spoke to one another at all. She did manage to find out that Ryoma was accepted into the same school as her, hence his nice new haircut. It wasn't much different from the way he kept his hair before, though now it was off his neck and out of his eyes. It was easier to see his face, which would be much more handsome if he'd just smile every now and then.

Oh well, just having him here was enough of a treat. Speaking of treats, he had given her a Ponta that she'd yet to touch, being so lost in thought. She had to go over everything peculiar she noticed about his behavior during their walk.

Now, by no means was Ryoma a social butterfly. She had the sinking suspicion that he was just one of those guys who hated people, which was fine by her. She was too shy to be around a conversationalist that dragged hoards of people into a discussion, which made him, the exact opposite, easy to be around. However, he did have a certain sense of justice when it came to people who were in trouble. He was almost like a masked super hero who came in, saved the day, and left before even getting thanked.

At least, he used to be.

There was something about the Kantou region and thieves on roller skates, because one just happened to zip between them at one point during their walk. Ryoma showed no concern, and the two of them just proceeded on their path. Sakuno suggested that they try and stop the thief somehow. When he zipped by again, Ryoma threw a good palm-sized rock at the guy just to make her happy, clipping his hip and causing him to lose balance and drop the purse.

That's when all hell broke loose. The thief stood, stomped on over (skates clacking with every stomp), and socked Ryoma right across the cheek. Sakuno covered her eyes and screamed as loud as she could. Next thing she knew, the police were carrying the thief off in handcuffs, and the lady whose purse was stolen was delighted to have it back. Ryoma saved the day!

Still, that would have gone over so much smoother if he just used a tennis racket.

"Ne, Ryoma-kun, your cheek's beginning to swell, you-" she lifted her untouched Ponta to his cheek and giggled when he flinched. That's karma for you. "-here."

Clearly he was confused, and after a moment he grabbed her wrist and pushed it back. Now, Sakuno may not be terribly bold, but she was as stubborn as stubborn could be, and the shade of purple Ryoma's cheek was turning was not making her happy. She tried to push the Ponta back against his cheek, but was completely unmatched by his strength. He even had the balls to _'mada mada dane'_ at her, which got her using both her arms to push his back, still no use. He was smirking now, and she couldn't figure out why he found this so amusing. She was only trying to help him.

"Oy, Echizen!"

Ryoma's attention was suddenly drawn toward that voice, and Sakuno, unable to control all the force and weight she was putting into Echizen's now limp arm, smashed into him Ponta-first. The force was so great that he flew right off the bench and onto the ground. Now his bruise was going to be even worse.

"Ryoma-kun! Sorry!"

Once she was on her feet, her nose almost came into contact with a laughing Momoshiro, someone she didn't even notice was there until just that moment. He was bouncing a tennis racket against his shoulder as he clutched his stomach in tumultuous laughter with his free arm. She looked down toward Ryoma, who looked about as amused as an angry cat being hung upside down by its tail.

"Sorry to interrupt your little date there, hehe," said Momo, offering his hand to Ryoma, who promptly ignored it as he pulled himself up. As the shorter boy brushed all the dirt off his clothes the gut of Momo's racket tapped against his head, earning him one of Ryoma patented frowns of doom. Momo was in no way affected by these, though.

"Come on!" said Momo, turning toward the road that led to the street courts. "You've gotta show me how much better you've gotten."

All time seemed to freeze at Sakuno's feet. There was no way Ryoma was going to turn down his own best friend, was he?

T B C


End file.
